A New Face in the Same Setting!
by Static-Lightning
Summary: One of the most dangerous men in the world, Yassen Gregorovitch is not about to go into retirement after he shoots Herod Sayle. A new contract leaves him with an interesting partner, as well as some lingering questions about a certain teenage spy...
1. Chapter 1

**An: Hey and welcome to my fifth fic. This one was based of inspiration which I got from reading Eagle Strike and Scorpia. (Yeah I'm reading the series again, but I lost stormbreaker!) **

**I'm gonna write this in conjunction with Back to business, if it gets some popularity back. Just to say, I'm afraid I need four reviews to update the next chapter in all my fics. It's not That unreasonable, and I already have the next chapter ready for BtB so come on… : )**

**This fic is about Yassen. All in his, and occasionally Julia Rothmans, POV. (Point of view.) Why Julie Rothman? I hear some of you cry, because she's my favourite member of Scorpia : D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, but I can still imagine...**

Yassen sat back in his seat, trying to force himself to relax. He knew he must, relaxation was fundamental to his spurs of energy and stamina. The difficult thing was, even if today was a usual day he would've found the hard, uncomfterble seat of the London underground tube that made it difficult for him to remain seated. The design for his backside was all wrong and the back support stuck out at an odd angle resulting in the padding counting for nothing.

It was now about ten hours since he had killed Herod Sayle on that rooftop, and ten hours since he had met Alex Rider. Yassen had known, from the moment the helicopter had first circled the building, what Herod was about to do. There was hate in his eyes, in his body language and terribly noticeable in the gestures he made whilst speaking. Yassen had recognised the boy almost immediately; a spitting image of his father, a man who the Russian owed his life. Yassen knew from experience that a man like Sayle, someone who had had their entire operation ruined, would waste time, if only minutes, expressing his rage to his captive.

For the first time in a good few months, Yassen had felt a sensation of urgency inside him, pressing him to hurry, to hastily land and save the boy. It had taken him precious seconds to restrain the emotion, to return to his original emotionless self. Emotions cause mistakes, therefore an emotionless assassin, like Yassen, was the perfect killer. He remembered landing the chopper; doing so had caused a distraction as Sayle had twisted around to look at him, before returning to face Alex. Yassen had then protruded the gun and the rest, was now history. Some people might prefer to describe his landing, and the agility in which he moved as professional, but Yassen didn't need include such mundane praise in his recollections. He knew he was good, he didn't need to tell himself that.

A sudden jolt brought him back to reality. Yassen was sitting on one of London's underground tubes, an enclosed metal box propelling itself along tracks built at least 50 metres below ground level. Although his face gave nothing away, personally Yassen despised being underground. He hated the blackness, the coldness and the stillness of the stale air he was forced to breath. Sayle's research facility, although well air conditioned and maintained, had still reminded him of this from the moment he had stepped inside. He had refused to let it impend on his task however, once done he had promised himself that he would spent a substantial amount of time above the surface in the future.

In the ten hours that had followed Sayle's death, Yassen had flown the helicopter to an abandoned landing pad just south of London, before making his way back into the central streets on foot. It was fast approaching rush hour, and the streets of London would be as packed as the tube station, yet Yassen had preferred not to walk. He assumed that the intelligence services who knew who he was would be too caught up with Sayle's fiendish plan to bother searching for him. And even if they did, he would spot them. He'd spotted them numerous times before.

Yassen glanced at the watch which was strapped perfectly to his wrist. He had exactly 51 minutes before his hastily scheduled meet with Julia Rothman, one of the most influential executive board members of Scorpia. It was she who had sent him as their representative to provide Sayle with the R5 virus, and until 11 hours previously, she had ordered him to collect Sayle at the roof top, to hide the man from the searches and investigations which would undoubtedly be enquired to discover his whereabouts. It was however, not to be as Mrs Rothman had personally got in touch with him to alter the plan. She hadn't needed to disguise the contempt in her voice as she had ordered him to kill instead of retrieve. Yassen knew she thought Sayle's motives were pathetic. He could tell by her voice, no matter how much she had tried to hide it. That meant little to him though. He didn't care that Sayle had failed, nor did it amuse him that he had been beaten by a teenager, in fact he was emotionally cold on everything that had happened. Everything that is, except Alex Rider.

Yassen shook his head slightly, as if trying to rid himself of a persistent pest. He needed to relax his mind and mentally prepare for the meeting that was soon to come. If his mind was prepared, so was his body. For every eventuality. Yassen's personal favourite methods of doing so were to reflect on everything that had happened on his assignment. Not only did this prepare his mind, but also refreshed his knowledge of what had taken place, allowing him warning and easy reference to past events, if he knew something had gone wrong and the fault was his.

Scorpia was one of many clients that Yassen had, and did, work for. Had it not been for one particular event however, Yassen may well have found himself tied up permanently in the organisation. The day when he discovered that John Rider had been shot on Albert Bridge had seen to the end of his enlistment with Scorpia. Yassen had become a mercenary, a contract killer who worked for the highest bidder, but far too often, that had slipped to become anyone who was prepared to pay.

Scorpia, despite having considerable talent of their own, still came to him for some of their more delicate matters. Yassen thought of Nile, Ivan **(A/N: The sniper who was sent to kill Alex)** and Ash. Each had their own unique methods and each also had they're own personal superior. Nile for instance was the favourite assassin of Julie Rothman, the woman he was about to meet, while Ash was Major Yu's most successful double agent. They all had as many similarities to him as they did differences, the most noticeable of which was that all of them enjoyed killing. To Yassen however, it was a task that deserved no emotion.

Despite his success, accomplishments and all the rest, Yassen knew as much as everyone else that he wasn't perfect, not the best in his line of work. Although he wasn't far off. And the Russian would prefer it to stay that way. He knew others described himself as intimidating, occasionally short tempered and in some cases too quiet. His presence provoked fear in his companions, and despite the usefulness of that, it wasn't always the best approach to the job.

The tube's advance began to slow. Yassen rose gracefully to his feet and made to stand by the exit. As movement stopped altogether, people around him stumbled or staggered but not him, his balance was perfect. The doors began to open and Yassen sensed the impatience of the crowd outside, waiting for the people to disembark before surging onto the tube. Yassen stepped onto the platform and disappeared into the crowd. A security camera caught sight of him in a brief moment, but then lost him as people at the back pushed the crowd forwards onto the platform. A brief moment was enough; it would only take a further five minutes for the heads of MI6 special operations to be informed that Yassen was still in London.

* * *

Julia Rothman was sitting elegantly at her desk, her eyes power reading a file regarding a certain terrorist group in south France. She was sitting in one of her many houses, each one situated in some of the most rewarding locations in the world, with this one as the exception. This was the secondary safe house in London and it was where, in a couple of days, the executive board of Scorpia were to meet once again.

She had heard about Herod Sayle and his failure with the stormbreaker, and it had to be said she wasn't happy about it. The man had hopelessly embarrassed himself and made her, his client, a laughing stock. It was fortunate that no one knew about their involvement, but there was such a thing as self pride! Despite this, the facts on how he had managed to be beaten were a little blurry. She suspected further MI6 involvement, as Yassen made his report concerning the spy they had last sent…Ian Rider. Julia Rothman sighed, as she had done many times since hearing that.

She had taken the news with mixed feelings. On the one hand she was immensely gratified to here that John Rider's brother had been killed. The news had half satisfied the seething rage inside her, which demanded revenge. Revenge for the way he had manipulated her and double crossed her entire organisation. On the other hand she had felt slightly saddened by the fact that she, herself, had not been there.

A loud vibration interfered with her thoughts, bringing her back to the real world. The noise came again, the sound amplified through the wood on her desk. She looked over to see her mobile phone buzzing, indicating a call was coming through. Although the caller ID displayed the number as unknown, she knew exactly who was calling. She changed, or more correctly, she had someone else change her phone once every two days to prevent it being tracked.

She slid the panel across and placed it to her ear, she didn't need to speak. A calm emotionless voice spoke a single sentence.

"I'll be there in five minutes."

* * *

Yassen paused by the office door, forcing himself to check his awareness. His mind was now fully prepared, and his body on high alert. Yet when he would enter the office, his stance would be perfectly normal and relaxed. Without further ado he knocked once and entered; Julia Rothman was sitting behind her desk and upon seeing him, she lowered the sheet of paper she was reading.

It was rare for a meeting like this to happen and Yassen knew that it was going to be kept short. Julia Rothman would de-brief him, hand over his fee and then possibly make him another offer or, recommendation if she was feeling generous. He took a seat in front of the desk, his body welcoming the comfort, but his face didn't change.

"Good evening, Mr Gregorovich." Julia greeted. Her tone was warm and there was a slight casual smile erected across her face. Her eyes however, hadn't changed. They were still as cold as they always were. Yassen was reminded of himself in many ways whenever he looked at her, and he was sure that particular thought was mutual between them.

"I trust our friend; Mr Sayle has been taken care of?"

Yassen nodded. "He was on the rooftop as you said. Do you intend to leave him there to be found?"

"That's already been taken care of." Assured Julia Rothman. She paused and then continued to speak, talking about how Sayle's failure had made her look foolish. Yassen didn't listen, he didn't care. If this was a mission briefing, his senses wouldn't have been more acute, taking in every single detail. Yet now, there was little point.

"…thank you for finishing the issue." Julia concluded. She seemed completely oblivious that Yassen hadn't heard a single word.

"Here is your pay check; I hope you and I will be working together in the future."

Yassen gingerly retrieved the envelope, and noted with some satisfaction that is was very thick. £50 000 he had been promised, and here it was.

"You know where to find me," Yassen said calmly, standing up. He turned around and had taken a single stride towards the door when Julia Rothman spoke again. Asking a question that Yassen had predicted was coming.

"Do you know who it was brought Sayle down?"

For the second time that day, Yassen experienced his stomach lurching with unease. Immediately he forced himself to relax, he couldn't allow emotion to get in the way.

Personally, Yassen would've preferred to have lied about Alex. He wanted to meet the person for himself and was already grateful to have been given the chance to save the boy's life. Already he felt as though he was giving something back to John. He was a professional assassin however, and his opinion didn't matter, plus he couldn't chance the possibility that Julia Rothman already knew.

"Yes, his name was Alex Rider." Yassen turned around and left the room, he half expected a question but Julia Rothman didn't need to ask.

**A/n: Well there you go. All feedback is welcome, even if it's flame. But I hope it won't be :) **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**A/n: Well I got quite a few responses so I figured I'd carry on with this. In here I'm developing Yassen slightly more as we never really got a look at his life in the books ;(. ****Sorry for the long update, the days of education have begun again with a vengeance. **

**Thanks to Jusmine, Buchworm13, Blue Rider, Dreamsinblackandwhite, whatever95, Killiani, and Emmy-Loo for reviewing. I'm glad you liked it, gave me motivation to write the next bit. **

Chapter 2.

Yassen walked briskly towards the house's entrance hall. Despite the exterior's shabbiness, the house was unusually large and glamorous on the inside. It had to be as though Julia Rothman was always expecting large numbers of guests. Having stepped into the hall, Yassen had merely to turn his head to see huge marvels of art, samples from some of the world 's most well known artists in addition to intricate ornaments and furniture, some custom made. Yet Yassen didn't turn his head; as he walked down the hallway his expression remained emotionless, eyes fixed on the exit at the end.

He stopped once, by the door. Reaching into his pocket he retrieved the mobile phone which he had used to take the call from Julia Rothman earlier that day. He placed it on a shelf, positioned conveniently at perfect arms reach. He wouldn't need that again, and somehow he doubted that Mrs Rothman would either. Yassen made a point of obtaining a new form of communication with whomever he was working for, occasionally it was phones, yet sometimes his clients had been more creative and given him a range of sophisticated equipment. Most of these were hidden in normal items of clothing, and even Yassen had to admit, it was a pain discarding them.

Once outside, Yassen paused briefly – only for a second – then, mind made up, he began to walk once more towards the tube station. With the job out of the way, he would most likely have time to himself for the next few days until he either sought out a contract, or someone got in touch with him. Yet perhaps, tonight deserved something luxurious. And for Yassen there were numerous possibilities. Assassination had been his main profession now for going on fifteen years, among other things; during those fifteen years he had seen his life change, lost friends, gained contacts wealth and respect.

New friends, for him, were hard to come by. The man who had been closest to him, John Rider, had been much the same. Working with him had been the most productive and indeed enjoyable years of his life, and the only time when the phrase 'time flies' had really rung true. Yet John had had a wife, and child. He'd been on the brink of retiring to his family, and Yassen, who was fast approaching the same age, had neither. Why, the last time he'd been in a relationship had been about a decade ago…

Yassen stopped walking, a man behind him had been a bit too close and bumped into him, he swore angrily in Spanish, using a word Yassen understood perfectly well, and bustled past him. Yassen remained motionless, for the first time he felt a very human chill creep up his spine and his stomach lurched. He'd been careless; letting his thoughts wander to back then… He'd even almost seen her face in his thoughts. He shook his head, blinking furiously trying to prevent the single tear from trickling from the side of his right eye. In his head, her face swirled, then disappeared.

It took a while for Yassen to regain his original pace, and slightly longer for him to get to the tube station but at last, there was the entrance in front of him. It wasn't until he had bought his ticket, entered onto the platform and observed with slight annoyance that the tube was late, that he sensed it. His years of experience had left him with something of a sixth sense, only obtainable through experience. Something felt wrong; the hairs on the back of his neck were once again on end, while his eyes were flashing through the crowd searching for something that shouldn't be there. He turned, very slowly, to his left and that was when he saw the surveillance camera, hidden in shadows in one of the corners of the roofs. Mentally he cursed, how could he not have noticed that earlier? Something flashed on the display screen, turning; he hastily took in that a different tube would pass through the station in five minutes.

It was when he turned around to look at the crowd once more that he saw him; a tall elegant man dressed in the wrong clothes, holding a phone to his ear that didn't fit his outfit, and the worst mistake was that he met Yassen's eye!. In the brief moment of eye-contact, Yassen knew this man was at the station for one reason, him. He considered if the man was MI6, but quickly dismissed the thought. This man had already made mistakes, and a high ranking MI6 agent, like the ones they would send after him, wouldn't. The man, once realising his mistake tuned his eyes on the floor, but kept the phone to his ear.

Yassen used this moment to scan the crowd; he saw a blond haired man with a similar style to his own standing right at the edge of the tracks, and hastily he made his way towards him. He didn't need to look back over his shoulder, he knew the officer would be following him. When Yassen reached the blond haired man, he drew his hood, black leather, out of his jacket and placed it on his head making sure it concealed all traces of his hair. Once done he walked, head down, back into the crowd.

The officer had followed Yassen, but lost sight of him when he had reached the edge of the station. His eyes rested on a man standing with blond hair, staring unmoving at the far wall. The officer placed a reassuring hand on his handcuffs, before tapping the man on the shoulder. He had been warned that the man he was after, someone named Yassen, was a martial arts expert and therefore very dangerous. His instructions stated explicitly that he was to follow Yassen and not to engage; yet the young officer was ambitious, he wanted to prove he was better than the sons-of-bitches he'd been put with, man they annoyed him.

He hissed into his phone for his contact to give him radio silence before cautiously tapping the man on the shoulder. The moment he turned around the man knew he'd been tricked. He apologised gruffly, and then made to stand at the very edge of the platform. His contact began once more to scream into his ear, but the officer managed to block out the majority as he searched the crowd once again. It was then that it happened, a chain of events so smooth that even the most experienced onlooker could pass it off as an accident.

A hunched figure, standing several paces away wearing a hood that concealed the majority of his face, stumbled. It seemed he had been violently knocked into, and he swore angrily as he went down, falling into a woman with a great enough speed to force her backwards into a third person. Like a set of dominoes, each person fell backwards until, at last, the blond man fell into the officer, but the officer had no ground to fall back on. Instead he fell heavily onto the rails with a distinct thud.

It took the remainder of the crowd one second to react, and as one they swarmed forwards towards the edge of the platform, but it was too late. Already the distinct sounds of a tube filled the station, and it wasn't slowing down! The police officer let loose an eerie scream that filled the entire station, silencing all conversation. A second later the tube crashed into him, knocking him backwards and grinding him into the rails. Hours later when the paramedics would investigate the scene, all they would find was his headset.

--

A white car, mediocre with tinted windows, drove, seeming painfully, past the window at five miles an hour. The car itself was stuck in traffic, but to the woman observing from the other side of the window, the car's presence was an insult. She knew that the car contained two drug dealers, recently released prison convicts, who had chosen the local school as their target. An invasion of her local area, and if she could she would see them off!

She sighed, were she not so pre-occupied, she would have done something. Her name was unknown; she herself had dismissed it as soon as she went into business, giving herself instead the nickname Ike. A short woman, thin with greasy lank hair that touched her shoulders, she ran a small time criminal business with her brothers, Zack and Russell. At one time all three of them had been attractive, yet one of her brothers had become a drug addict, while Zack and herself had been smoking since before they were fourteen. The fags, besides being exceedingly expensive, had done their job. Her skin was pale, wrinkled and in addition contained numerous blemishes.

Her carelessness had resulted in her clients moving to more, reliable contacts that charged less and got the job done twice as efficiently. Ike was becoming increasingly desperate, on the verge of deteriorating into a petty thief, simply to cover the cost of her addictions. She knew that they ran her life, and the sad thing was there wasn't anything she could do about it.

She and her brothers weren't the only ones to suffer; their house had long since gone into decline when they could no longer pay the maid. Dust coated every surface; the floor was in most cases littered with piles of waste, clothing and other things. Cobwebs had infested the corners of the building, while the smell itself was potent enough to drive off any potential visitor and invite vermin for at least a mile around. The police were looking for her, restricting her life to inside her filthy abode, waiting for the phone to ring. She had waited in vain for a week, but today that was going to change.

The day had begun like any other day. Zack hadn't returned from one of many brothels he visited, whilst Russell had spent an evening at the gym, and come in later only to tut in disgust. He was the only one of the three of them who tried to maintain his physical appearance. Smoking was too much for him to give up on also, yet his efforts were certainly more noticeable, especially in his face which was acne free. Something Ike looked at in envy each time she saw him.

Russell hadn't stayed long either, there were many places he could spend his day, each considerably more beneficial than spending time arguing with his sister at home. Zack had yet to show his face, and Ike had spent the entire morning sitting on the sofa in the lounge, watching the twelve inch television screen. It wasn't until two o'clock that something extraordinary happened. On the hour exactly, the phone rang.

Ike sat still in disbelief for a moment, then sprang to her feet and practically ran towards it.

"Hello?" she rasped

"Good afternoon, my name is Dr Jackal. It's a pleasure speaking to you.

"H…how can we help?"

"I'm the head of a company which is located in the United Kingdoms central area. Please excuse me for not being more specific. I have got myself into a situation and I'm looking for some assistance. I will pay you highly if you can take care of a little situation for me.

"What's the problem?" As she spoke, Ike moved towards a pad and pen that was kept permanently by the phone, something that was about to pay off as everything else was hell to find in her house.

"There is an individual who has caused me much trouble and inconvenience in the recent past. I can give you the exact details of his whereabouts at 8:15 this evening. All I need you to do is to…ahem take care of him and the body. I trust we understand each other?"

Ike's stomach lurched; this was what she had been waiting for! With this she could get herself back into business. She almost slurred her words as she rasped hastily her next question.

"How much are we talking here?"

"If you follow the plan exactly, I'm willing to part with £10 000. This man is exceedingly dangerous, and removing him will take a great weight off my shoulders so to speak."

"And where can I find you afterwards?"

"I have contacts in southern London, they will be watching. The man's name is Yassen Gregorovich, and this is where he is going to be…"

Ike's heart was pounding at twice the normal speed, and had been ever since Dr Jackal had mentioned the fee for her service. She barely listened to the details, or indeed the caution in which he had given her also. She'd round up her brothers and be there, she needed the money. When the call was finished, she picked up her coat – with some difficulty- and slipped out the front door.

--

Yassen himself had spent what was left of the day in London, steering clear of popular attractions and collecting certain items that he would need for the following week. His follower, the late officer on the station had been naïve, and Yassen had almost effortlessly removed him. The story had hit the news barely thirty minutes later as all tubes had been temporarily suspended due to the fatality. In the commotion Yassen had slipped away.

With the day drawing to an end, Yassen considered where to go for the evening. He had numerous possibilities, each with its pros and cons. He could visit his apartment in London, bought six years ago; he'd fitted it with its own gym, relaxing quarters and entertainment for the night. He could also visit one of his contacts, a man called Bilious Fetcher, someone who owned brothels all over the capital. The man owed him favours and would easily sort him out for the night. It was though, something Yassen considered beneath him on most days, as his urges could be satisfied in much more humane ways. He had to be careful though when approaching women, this was when he was at his most vulnerable and the weakness of most modern criminals.

His mind flickered back to John and Helen. A wave of loneliness coursed through his body, and he felt an urge around his midriff to hug somebody, anybody. Someone who cared about him and wanted him in their presence. He sighed; mind made up he turned and headed towards the Fetchers nearest establishment. If you treated the girls there with respect, most of the time they would care back as they were mistreated in most cases. Providing they got their money of course.

He stepped off the main road, down a side alley. Here the place stank of urine and other things which were enough to put off nearly everyone. Yassen grimaced, this wasn't going to be pleasant, yet he needed to avoid the main roads.

The going was fairly easy and soon he reached a wider section of the alleyway; that was when he sensed it. Something wasn't right, he wasn't alone. As though reading his thoughts, ahead of him he heard a footstep and a moment later Ike walked into view, accompanied on either side by her brothers.

Zack carried a baseball bat, boasting a couple of blood stains while Russell held a couple of what looked like kitchen knives in either hand. Both were razor sharp and rusty at the hilt, it was apparent he didn't look after his tools. Ike, in the middle, held a handgun. It too was coated in rust and judging by the design it must have been a least a decade old. Either way, Yassen's weapon was out of ammunition and rusty weapons could still do the job.

Ike looked at him and then turned to face her brothers.

"Kill him!"

**A/n: so what you reckon? I've got a pretty good idea where I'm taking this; next update should be up by the weekend if all goes well ;). **

**Now all I ask is you click the button at the bottom of the page and tell me what your opinion of it. More reviews are more motivation. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Hey guys, it's actually quite fun writing from the point of view of a villain. ****Well here's chapter three, where more is to be discovered about the mysterious Dr. Jackal and the conclusion to the last chapters cliff hanger. Enjoy **

* * *

Chapter 3.

Yassen stared unnerved towards the trio. It took the two brothers a second to hear Ike's command, and another second to process it. Then they each started to move menacingly towards him, each brandishing their weapons fiercely in his direction. Yassen felt a wave of unexplainable anger coarse suddenly, almost violently, through his body. His usual emotionless expression vanished in an instant to be replaced by a look of pure venom, his eyes flashed. He was alone, he had nobody, and now these three people thought they could just turn up and kill him like that?

He placed his feet slightly apart, morphing his neutral stance into combat. Zack was coming straight at him, while Russell had circled him to attack from behind. Yassen allowed himself a quick glance back, eyeing up Russell's position and making a mental calculation. Then suddenly, Zack was coming at him. A cry of desperation escaped the man's lips as he swung the bat horizontally at Yassen's head. At the same time Russell lunged forwards from behind, intending to stab him in the back, a cheap shot while he was preoccupied with his frontal advisory. It wasn't pretty or honourable, but it worked. All the other targets had each made the same mistake, forgetting Russel and being stabbed for it. But Yassen wasn't a normal man.

The moment Zack had begun to swing his weapon; Yassen was already beneath the blow. Then he twisted his body, curving around the blade that would've gutted him had he not moved. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zack's arms contort as he changed tack, intending to bring the bat vertically down on Yassen's head. Yassen himself simply hopped to the left then grasped Russell's hand as he made to stab once more. He pulled the man towards him and then elbow slammed his face, knocking him backwards onto the floor, where he drew both hands over his broken nose and let loose a low moan.

Yassen held the knife he had taken in one hand, and then flipped it over so the blade was facing backwards. He watched as Zack let loose a roar of rage and swung the bat again; but this time he was angry, resulting in his swing being hasty and uncoordinated. It was too easy to dodge, Yassen merely side-stepped, and then brutally, with perfect precision he slashed the man's throat. Zack slumped backwards and hit the ground heavily, gurgling and moving his hands in slow feeble gestures.

Behind him came the sounds of quick footsteps, and Yassen turned around in the blink of an eye, all prepared for the attack. But the attack never came; Russell was running dejectedly in the opposite direction. Yassen thought briefly of following but then he dismissed it. Let the man run, he wasn't a threat anymore. Ike screamed in rage, drawing Yassen's attention back to her. She hadn't moved for the duration of the scuffle, but now she had her weapon loaded and was pointing it at Yassen's head. "You son of a bitch! Gah!!"

Her eyes were pulsating, half with fear half with hatred. Dr. Jackal had warned her that this man was extraordinary and should be dealt with extreme caution, but she hadn't listened! Now Zack was dead, and Russell had abandoned her. Well… She had her weapon, and Yassen was too far away to do anything about it.

Yassen himself was slowly moving the knife back into the perfect position in his hand. He wasn't scared of the gun, but situations like this made him ever so slightly nervous. A second after screaming at him, Ike pulled the trigger. Yassen sprang gracefully to the left, but the shot never came anywhere near.

The barrel of the weapon was ever so slightly dented inwards near the hilt, and the round had travelled about a centimetre but then hit the side at the wrong angle and exploded. The shock blew the weapon apart, and instead of a shot, shards of metal fired in every direction. Yassen threw himself to the floor caught completely off his guard, a second ahead of the danger but Ike hadn't been so lucky. A couple of metallic shards had become embedded in her flesh. She took a couple of steps backwards in shock, raising her hands to her throat where one particular fragment had severed an artery. A second later her legs gave away and she toppled backwards, hitting the floor with a loud thud. There was already quite a lot of blood.

Yassen picked himself up walked over to her, observing in disgust. This woman had no idea what she had got herself into and as a result she was a wreck. Yet he had to merely think of the damage she had caused in her life to others to disperse any faint traces of pity. He dropped the knife next to her quaking body and left her to bleed to death.

* * *

High above the situation, placed conveniently in a little nook in the rooftops was a cam recorder. The little machine had had a perfect view over the commotion; the images it had recorded were transmitted to a villa in Italy. The pictures came up on screen a mere two seconds after they happened in England. Two people were watching the show, one of them sitting relaxed in an armchair placed in front of the big screen, and the second was poised stiffly against the wall near the door.

Both were men, each with enough accomplishments beneath their belt to earn their place in the room. The man in the armchair was Dr. Jackal, it was he who had rung up Ike that very afternoon and offered her £10 000 to eliminate the man he was watching now. Ike had been far to excited by the money to question where Dr. Jackal had asked her, a broken drug addict, to take care of an obviously superior adversary. This had been exactly why Dr. Jackal had chosen her. Had he wished Yassen Gregorovich dead, it would have been a simple matter. A sniper in the right place was all that would be needed.

Yet Dr. Jackal did not wish Yassen dead. He had heard of his high ranking, not to mention his reputation and if he was truthful with himself, he needed Yassen's assistance. So he had set up a little test, to determine whether he would invest his time in the Russian, and the man had passed with flying colours. He heard the second man breathe out loudly in admiration.

"Excellent, that style… I haven't seen it in a long time."

Dr. Jackal turned to face him, his face showing faint signs of interest.

"You recognise it?"

"Mm, it's exclusive to the island of Malagosto as far as I know. One of the best."

Dr. Jackal nodded, "Scorpia? How convenient."

"Well I'd say he's passed the test, are you going to bring him in?"

"Yes." Dr. Jackal said thoughtfully. "We are going to need his help."

He pressed a button on the left armrest of his char. The screen turned blank, and Dr. Jackal rose from his chair. He turned to face his friend who pushed himself off the wall and began heading towards the door. The man was around twenty five, slim fit with the ease of a ballet dancer. His profession was killing; he was one of the best in the world and went by the title of The Gentleman. The men had met over twelve years ago, and a mere six months later, The Gentleman had been given the privileges as a member of the executive board.

Back then, there had been five men on the board, with Dr. Jackal as the head. He had founded the group, and ran it efficiently then as he did now. One of the others had been shot during an operation, while another had showed signs of deceit and treachery. The Gentleman had had the pleasure of taking him out himself. The last man had been working with them until recently where he had disagreed with the other two over their current project, and out of respect Dr. Jackal had let him walk away. Any sign of trouble and the man was dead; he had made that much clear.

Dr. Jackal reached into his pocket, and protruded a phone. He pressed a button and held the device to his ear, after a single ring a voice answered.

"Yes?"

"Bring him in Roland, there's a good fellow."

"Yes, sir."

Dr. Jackal slid the device shut, closing his fingers around it. "Time to make the preparations," he muttered to himself before hurrying out of the door.

* * *

Yassen had walked a dozen paces away from the now corpses when he heard it. The gentle footstep, urgent and yet not too loud. In a flash he turned around, hands positioned ready to attack. In front of him stood a short, bald man dressed smartly in a suit and tie. The man looked to be in his mid fifties, complete with glasses and a stud in his left ear. The final addition made the rest of his appearance look slightly ridiculous.

Yassen sensed the man wasn't a threat, he could tell be the neutrality of his stance, the calm expression on his face and, rather surprisingly, the warmth in his eyes. He wondered if this was a married man.

"Good evening, Mr Gregorovich. I have a request from a friend who would greatly appreciate it if you considered his offer.

Yassen lowered his arms to his sides. He was a good couple of heads taller than the bald man and felt slightly uncomfterble standing there.

"You know my name?"

"We know a great many things about you; we wish to offer you a contract."

Yassen thought briefly, he decided to first ask another question.

"Were you watching back there?"

"Yes, my friend would like me to pass on his compliments. He was deeply impressed."

"What do you want of me?" Yassen's question was blunt and direct; he hated it when people began to small talk.

"Your assistance, for help with our project as well as a couple of minor issues. Please follow me and my friend will fill you in on the finer details. If this is of no interest to you then I bid you goodnight."

"I'm listening."

As if on cue, a phone began to buzz in the bald mans pocket. He retrieved it swiftly and handed it over to Yassen saying, "perhaps my friend can explain it better, please follow me."

The bald man turned around and headed out of the alleyway, taking care to step over the dead bodies of Ike and Zack. Yassen followed him, accepting the call as he did so.

"Good evening, Yassen. I've heard so much about you."

"And you are?" Yassen asked.

"My name is Dr. Jackal. I apologise for the commotion earlier this evening but we needed to be sure. I trust you will accept our compensation. I'm a doctor in psychology; I've been working independently for twenty years conducting experiments that raise far too many ethical issues to be made public. These experiments need funding however, and I run a band of mercenaries to fulfil my budgetary demands. I doubt if you have heard of us, we take great care in keeping ourselves discreet, but right now, we're lacking in skilled personnel."

"So where do I fit into this?"

Ahead of him the bald man excited the alleyway, sat waiting was a limo. The bald man opened the door and ushered Yassen inside, then closed it. He would take a short walk back home to his family. The limo began to drive in the vague direction of Heathrow airport.

"We would like to offer you a place on our band for three months, possibly more. I would very much like your presence for my project, as I confess I am under staffed presently. Also I am aware that it is a touchy subject, but as a little token of my gratitude if you accept my offer, I will bestow upon you some information I acquired recently concerning a certain teenager spy…"

Yassen jumped at the mention of Alex. He felt a wave of dislike wash over him and was tempted to end the call there. But he was used to controlling this particular reaction to people's speech, so much that it took great effort to provoke it. If he ended the call, he would be back to where he was earlier, feeling alone, and that was something that he didn't want.

"So what do you say?"

"I'm in."

* * *

**A/n: So what you think? Good…bad…ok…? **

**What more is there to Dr. Jackal's proposal? Will Yassen regret his choice and who exactly is this new partner of his? Your gonna have to read chapter four to find out those answers. **

**Now pleeeeeeeeeeeease review? Please? expectant look More of them are more inspiration. **

**Also thanks to those who reviewed chapter 2: Jusmine (Never missed a chapter, thanks : D), whatever95, Dreamsinblackandwhite and Buchworm13. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**A/n: Right here it is. Sorry for the slightly long update, but school work unfortunately nicks priority. This chapter is written in three stages, Yassen's is at the bottom. (No skipping to the bottom, you got to read it all D)**

**Also some of you may notice that I've changed the summary. Credits to the heads up and the basis for a new description go to Emmy-loo, thank you. **

* * *

Chapter 4.

The corpses in the alleyway were not discovered until the following morning. A teenage couple walking to school decided to use the secluded alleyway to their advantage however, they ventured in a little too far. The sight of two dead bodies on the ground, each covered in a pool of oozing blood would be enough to scar their memories for a seriously prolonged period of time. The police had ultimately arrived on the scene within the hour and sealed off the area.

A senior detective, a burly man by the name of Michael Mclide arrived at the scene half an hour later. He observed with slight interest the chaotic crowd of pedestrians pressing back on the officers, demanding their opinions on the situation, as well as information of what had happened down the alleyway. There were the occasional screams, and as he watched one man broke into a scuffle. He wondered why the event had attracted such a party; it could be down to lack of action happening in the neighbourhood… Unusual for London, but still…

Michael wasn't a tall man; in fact he was slightly below average. He had to admit that this did make it slightly difficult to attract attention in these situations, not to mention being seen. Yet he had learned over the years alternate methods to pushing oneself to the front of a crowd. At last he managed to find his way to the remains of Zack and Ike; until the paramedics arrived, the corpses couldn't be moved in case of corrupting evidence. For example, the way blood surrounds a corpse can be used to identify the exact cause of death. It seemed however, that that wouldn't ne necessary. The police had collected fragments of the handgun Ike had used to try and kill Yassen the previous evening as well as observing the shards of metal lodged in her neck, and could make an educated guess as to what happened. Three men had been assigned to gathering all the little pieces using white plastic gloves to avoid staining the metal with fingerprints. It was humiliating work, and they could be seen by the occasional crowd member.

A junior inspective informed Michael that the two people were from the same family, and from what they could tell, they had both died in quick succession to one another. "Judging by the different causes of death we believe that something similar to a scuffle broke out, there would most probably have been a third party here," said the inspective. Michael stood still for a moment, before inquiring further.

"Have you found anything to support that theory?"

"We've found another bloodstain, here a metre from the mans body. It could be blood from the woman but we can't be sure. Also the metal lodged in the woman's throat match the pieces we've found around the place, it seems she was holding some kind of weapon, and the contraption exploded in her hand."

Michael walked over to Ike, through the blood he saw a face he recognised immediately. Her name had been commonly spoken throughout the office over the last few months. Ike Stone. He turned to say as much, but was temporarily interrupted by a loud commotion behind him. Turning he saw several figures wearing white masks walking towards the scene, it seemed that the paramedics has arrived. He began to move away from the bodies, speaking to the junior inspective as he did so.

"I know that woman; she's a criminal and ran a small-time gang. It seems she had some bad luck or something because her business went down the drain and she took to staying inside. That man looks like her brother, but they had another. Some crook by the name of Russel."

"Do you believe he could've done this?"

Michael considered briefly before speaking. "It's possible, rumour has it Ike ruined the gang. He could've retaliated out of spite! Alright, tell the paramedics to check that second blood stain with the blood from Ike, in the meantime I want a couple of officers to check out their household. Doesn't look like they'll need it again."

"Yes sir." The junior inspective turned around and was about to head off when an afterthought crossed his mind. He turned back again and raised his voice.

"One more thing sir, we found what was left of a security camera concealed in the rooftops. Looks like it self destructed. Our technician salvaged what he could, and he told us that it would've been in operation around the time these people died. What does this mean sir…?"

"I don't know…" Michael paused, something here wasn't adding up but he couldn't afford to appear uncertain. He responded with a new grimness in his voice.

"We'll find out, and besides this man Russel has done us a favour if he is behind this. Once we get him in captivity we'll have removed all three of these bastards from my neighbourhood!"

Another hour passed before one of the paramedics approached Michael. He had spent the duration of that time waiting impatiently, leaning against the wall watching them work. He was careful to let his annoyance show on his face when the man approached him.

"We've finished inspecting the bodies now; we'll transport them out of here."

"Good." Michael said abruptly. "Took you long enough," he added in an undertone.

"I'm sorry?"

"What can you tell me then?" Michael overruled.

"Well the blood on the floor is type A positive, not a match to the woman. Also the explosion which caused the metal fragments to kill the female happened after the man hit the floor, seeing as none of the metal pierced his skin."

"Couldn't they have just been here at different times?"

We've run the tests, they both died within the same five minutes."

"Thank you, is that all?" Michael asked, he saw the paramedic wrinkle his nose, a sign of distaste.

"Yes. Please excuse me."

One he had left, Michael reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. He couldn't remember off the top of his head whether A positive matched Russel, even though his gut instinct was telling him it did. The knives and baseball bat had been taken back to the station for finger printing long before, and he was sure that if the blood failed that they would provide results. He dialled the number for his officer and clicked ring. A female voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Ah Philips, I need you to check the records of one Russel Stone. I need to know his blood type."

"One moment sir."

The procedure took a few seconds, in which time Michael skittered his feet along the slab of concrete. He was an impatient man, the sole factor as to why he had never made it above senior detective. Fifty years of age, his prime had come and gone, but he was still a good degree fitter than many younger officers both male and female.

"Here we go; yep that's a match. He's blood type A Positive."

"Thank you," he said and then hung up. Mind made up he began walking hastily back towards his car. He punched another number into the phone and spoke urgently when someone answered.

"George! Get Frank and two others, I want you to meet me at Ike Stone's place. She and her brother Zack have been killed; primary suspect is their other sibling Russel Stone. Also I want it around London he's wanted on a charge of double murder… Come on man I want to hear some movement!"

* * *

Once fleeing from the alleyway the previous evening, Russel _had _headed towards the sanctuary of his house. He head heard Ike shout a second after he hit the road and then a few moments later, the explosion. Something had been wrong though, it wasn't the normal sound of a bullet firing and Russel had been forced to conclude that the thing had exploded, or worse. Most likely Ike was dead also…Dam her!

Russel spared a quick glance around and was relieved to see the surrounding area was completely deserted. He raised an arm and wiped away a few streaks of blood and began to run once more. He had to be careful how much blood he lost, but staying here would result in his death anyway, he was sure of it. How could it have so wrong? A mere hour earlier, Zack and Ike had met him and handed him a couple of knives, stating that they needed to take care of some Russian. They had been pressed for time, and Ike had refused to allow him to return home to collect a real weapon. They'd also refused to tell him more about the guy, and now look at them!

Russel turned into a second alleyway and began to sprint, his arms and legs propelling him along the uneven concrete. They had taken the piss out of his frequent visits to the gym, but he'd prove them wrong once more. It took him a little over 20 minutes to reach his house, a battered looking thing situated fifty metres behind the rest on the street, and the only connection to it was the muddy track with overgrowing hedges on either side.

Once inside he slammed and bolted the door viciously. Out of habit he tutted in disgust when he turned around, and saw the familiar mess everywhere. Ike never did like cleaning. But Ike was now dead, and would never set foot in this house again, something that Russel finally seemed to take on board. He wasn't particularly upset; he'd never really had a close relationship with his sister, or his brother for that matter. Yet, as in many cases, he felt the full weight of his attachment to his sister, and a burning rage filled his insides. True he had deserted her, but that had been a wise decision. He'd make sure he found that Russian, he'd hunt him down and keeping following until he caught him, and then he'd avenge the deaths of his family.

He stomped up the stairs and arrived outside the door to his room. He pushed, but the door resisted him. He shouted out in anger and kicked it with all his strength. The rotting piece of wood snapped backwards off its hinges and crashed onto his bed. Russell made sure to stamp on it, cracking it in two before throwing the half on his bed aside. He reached underneath purposely and then withdrew a case. The container was demanding a three digit code; it took a few seconds to line up the numbers but then the lip flipped up and there it was. The seed of his revenge, a proper handgun! The metal gleamed; the weapon was obviously brand new and with an eight shot clip capacity.

An alarm began to wine, caught by surprise Russell span around. It was coming from the spare room. He grabbed the weapon, as well as some additional cartridges and moved quickly to the source of the noise. Ike had been clever in defending her home; she'd installed motion senses on the path to their house, as well as a heat defining device. Right now Russell was watching three people approach the building, and according to the screens in front of him each man was armed. Russell swore; who were they? Police? No, there was no badge or uniform and policemen in the United Kingdom didn't carry guns. Perhaps they were a specialist team? Hah, if only, specialist teams didn't often move in odd numbers.

Russel thought quickly, and then he got it. Dr. Jackal, the man Ike had mentioned. It must have been a set up; the Russian had been a complete master of self defence. Russell didn't care why Dr. Jackal had sent them to their deaths, but for the second time that day a spasm of hatred coursed through his veins. Were these men his? Were they here to finish the job? Probably, but they were in for a surprise. Ike had spent literally thousands on defending the building when they'd been in their prime, and these defences were about to pay off.

He waited until the three men were standing on the driveway outside his house, then he flicked a switch. Instantly the entire perimeter of the house was flooded with light, streaming out of huge lamps impossible to see in the darkness. The three men froze, caught completely off guard, each thinking furiously. Russell took advantage of the situation; he cocked his weapon then pushed himself behind a window and aimed his weapon at the first man of the three. Illuminated and standing up in the middle of open ground he was an easy target, the bullet hit him in the chest and he crumpled. The second man started to run; Russell turned the gun on him and just as effortlessly mowed him down. None of the men could see where the shots were coming from, the lights made it impossible to tell.

The third man's hands shot up, identifying his surrender. Russell hesitated and then lowered his weapon, he needed information.

"Don't move! Or I'll blow your head off! I want information, who the hell are you?!"

"Roland Smith." The reply was shouted in the vague direction of the house. The first man Russell had shot moaned and tried to sit up, Russell raised his weapon and fired a third time, the shot buried itself in the mans head, causing him to collapse backwards. He heard Rolland whimper.

"Why have you come here?!"

"…Dr. Jackal sent us. Nothing personal, Please! I've got a son…and a wife!"

"Well it's a good thing you didn't kill me then? We don't want daddy turning into a murderer!"

Russell had already decided he'd had enough of this man. He couldn't just let the guy walk away and was tempted to kill him there and then but something stayed his hand. Was it pity? Did the guy remind him of someone? The man looked so out of his depth, standing there shivering with fear.

"Get out of here! Go and tell him you've failed!" Russel shot the ground next to Rolland's legs to add impact to his sentence; the man got the message and turned tail before fleeing back the way he had come. Russell shouted after him.

"You come back, I'll kill you!"

* * *

The limo had followed the direction towards Heathrow airport for some time before changing direction towards the outskirts of the city. Yassen assumed that there was some kind of helicopter waiting for them, and wasn't disappointed. A five seater, it looked like he wouldn't be making the journey alone. Dr. Jackal had said as much; when Yassen agreed to his proposal, he ended the conversation with a swift thank you, and then informing him that one of his men would be waiting for him to brief him further.

He wondered vaguely whether Dr. Jackal had known he would say agree. The man was a doctor in psychology which probably explained how he knew where Yassen would be however, it would still have been impossible for him to be 100 percent certain. He had sat in silence for the remainder of the journey to the field, then after exciting slowly he greeted the man there for him with little enthusiasm.

Once aboard the chopper, he situated himself on the far right, sitting comfortably by the window. Contrary to many peoples phobia, Yassen enjoyed flying. He relished the feeling when the chopper lifted off the floor and loved the view of the country, so far up in the sky. His companion for the journey climbed into the seat next to him, shutting the door behind him. The rotors began to spin at terrific speed, and only a few minutes later the helicopter was at least 500 feet off the ground. That was when the man started talking.

"First off, I'm sorry for the setting you up. I was watching also and I have to say I was very impressed."

"What happens to the guy who ran away?" Yassen cut in. It was the only thing he didn't know about the set up.

"We can't afford the liability; the guy who approached you in the alleyway has been re-directed to taking him out."

Yassen nodded, but didn't speak. He'd guessed as much.

"Dr. Jackal had men spread out over Italy, our organisation has gone unfortunately into decline in the past year, and we've suffered many losses. My name is Collin Raves; I'm his representative in the United Kingdom."

"Who else is there here?"

"Rolland, I believe you have met. Then he has a couple of men, and I have a fair few now. We're based in the building near to the field we took off from. "

Yassen nodded again, not really listening to the answer. His mind was far to occupied with what Dr. Jackal had said about Alex. Did the man have contacts with Scorpia or MI6? Somehow Yassen doubted it. His eyes flickered, coming back to the present in time to hear Collin speak the final word of his sentence.

"So where do I come into this?"

"I'm sure Dr. Jackal can explain it better, but in short we would like you to participate in our plan, in addition to eliminating a few selected targets around the world. By the way, I would like to emphasise that double crossing us would be very unwise, I hope that you wouldn't be that foolish and we are rather good at terminating rogue agents!"

Collin looked slightly nervously towards the Russian sitting next to him. In the short time he had spent with him he was already intimidated. If he was worried about provoking a reaction with his choice of words he was fortunately mistaken. Yassen had heard it so many times it didn't even annoy him anymore, he simply yawned. It was going to be a long flight.

* * *

The helicopter took three hours to travel to the Italian border, and a further half an hour to land in the correct area. Once it touched down, Collin opened the door feverishly and stepped out, allowing Yassen to leave the vehicle. The chopper had landed on a barren stretch of tarmac, with little sign of life anywhere. He looked down; green moss was oozing between the cracks in the floor. Apparently this place hadn't been used in some time. No doubt that was why it had been chosen.

"Mr Gregorovich, a pleasure to meet you!"

Yassen turned to face the voice. A second limo, also white was parked a few metres away. Standing either side of the door were two guards, each dressed in a black suit with a white shirt. A handgun, horribly obvious, was sticking out of their overcoats. The man who had spoken, Dr. Jackal, was walking towards him. His eyes didn't share the warmth of his smile. He wore glasses, silver with a thin frame while his hair was combed perfectly to one side. He was also smartly dressed, wearing grey formal clothes with a black tie.

Yassen extended his hand, once completing the greeting he followed the man to the car. After entering Dr. Jackal began to speak.

"I'm going to fill you in here, with the rest of the details. I was born in this country; I loved every second of my childhood and was proud to be Italian. I was born into wealth, yet my parents also had two more children. Unfortunately both of which have passed on, it happened at the same time, a collision on the motorway."

Yassen blinked, he kept his face emotionless trying to conceal his inner disinterest. Outside he noticed the helicopter taking off, most probably heading back to England. The limo began to drive, each guard entering the driving seats at the front. He turned back to face Dr. Jackal and noticed for the first time a young woman sitting inside the car. She caught his eye and quickly looked away.

"I've been a doctor of psychology for years; but you cannot imagine my frustration at the restrictions that the ethics committee casted on my experiments. I wasn't even allowed to deceive the subjects about none lethal matters! So as you can imagine, it wasn't long before I turned away from legal work and started my own business. I had money, and over the years my results attracted attention from the Italian underworld. At first I had an occasional deal with the Mafia, but then things escalated and now I have my own band which I've been running for little less than a decade."

"What do you want from me?" Yassen's question was blunt and direct, he saw the doctor's smile waver.

"Well we can talk simple if it's what you prefer. You have two days to settle in and become adjusted, and then I'm sending you on an assignment. I've been contacted to eliminate two people; I'll tell you more in two days time."

"Fair enough."

"I've equipped your lodgings with everything you will need, it's an individual building inside my compound, I'm sure you'll find it everything in order. Do you have any questions?"

"Who's the girl?"

"Ah, I have a condition. I would like very much to assign one of my youngest agents to accompanying you throughout the duration of your contract. She will observe on your habits, and how you complete your assignments."

Yassen blinked, he hadn't come across something like this before. He looked at the woman; she stared back, defiant but nervous. Some people might have called her attractive, but Yassen saw only naivety in her eyes. Naivety that could get them killed."

"I prefer to work alone."

"But Yassen, think about this." Dr. Jackal pleaded, using Yassen's Christian name for the first time. "Don't you remember how you've been feeling for the past couple of days? Lonely, unwanted? This will benefit both you and me. She's young and inexperienced, but well disciplined; I hold any set backs whose fault is hers personally responsible."

Yassen shivered slightly, how had the man known how he'd been feeling? And what was all this about Alex? This man obviously had a much larger past then he'd revealed and suddenly Yassen doubted the deal. He was a doctor in psychology, but even so psychologists only know so much. And yet, he looked at the woman. It was true what Dr. Jackal had said, he probably did need the company.

"Alright he said." He just hoped he wouldn't regret his decision.

* * *

**A/n: Ah that one was a bit longer. Hmmm, well there you go. Bit of a filler chapter so you know. Next one will reveal a few of the mysteries. So how is Yassen going to settle in with the kind of partner he dislikes most? And will Russell survive with the police and Dr. Jackal after him? That's all to come in chapter five. **

**As always all opinions are welcome, in fact more than welcome "smiles"**


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